A Silent Vow
by ChoCedric
Summary: AU. At their first-year leaving feast, Ron and Hermione's hearts unite in sadness as they toast to the bravery of their fallen best friend. Later, they sit by the lake, simply reflecting on the boy he was, and they make a promise that they'll always remember him as much, much more than just a legend with a scar.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: This is my final story in this particular HP universe, my final of four. Please let me know what you think, and if you want to read the others, go right ahead! I hope you enjoy this.

A Silent Vow

By: ChoCedric

The Great Hall was silent and subdued as the students and teachers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat at their tables for the Leaving Feast. Usually, it would be decorated in a particular House's colors, but tonight it was not. Black banners adorned the walls, proclaiming the name of the person this entire night was dedicated to.

In loving memory of Harry Potter, they said in big, bold letters. A hero to us all.

Among those sitting in the room were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Grief and exhaustion were displayed all over their faces as they sat dazedly, staring at the words and at the empty chair beside them. Harry Potter, their best friend, would never sit amongst them again, with his bright emerald eyes and his winning smile. NO, Harry was never coming back.

Neither of them could fathom that within the last few days, everything in their world had changed. Not that long ago, both had been dreading the Leaving Feast because they knew they had lost their chance to earn the House Cup. But now, they'd have given anything to have Slytherin win a thousand points while Gryffindor got zero, if it meant their best friend could be back with them, and they'd all commiserate together. Looking at the memorial banners, they now couldn't care less about house points. All that mattered now was that Harry was gone.

Everything had been a blur to the two of them since four days ago, since they'd collapsed by the bedside of their fallen friend. He'd looked extremely peaceful, like he was only sleeping, but the coldness of his hand and the silence of his heart proved that he wasn't. How cruel fate was to take such a young child, someone who was only eleven, their best mate. Ron remembered shouting with denial, and Hermione remembered holding Harry's hand and sobbing, constantly blaming herself for leaving him alone to face whatever was in that last chamber, leaving him alone to struggle to keep the Philosopher's Stone safe.

Dumbledore, in a weary, grief-filled voice, had told them how he'd been successful in saving the stone, only to die a few hours later from a case of severe magical exhaustion. He'd developed a dangerously high fever, his body not able to handle the use of so much magic. Madame Pomfrey had tried to heal him, but it was too late. He went painlessly, though, Dumbledore had reassured them. He had been unconscious the entire time, not knowing that his tiny, eleven-year-old body was destroying itself.

Ron and Hermione had walked around like zombies after that, not knowing what to say to any of the other students. The news had spread like wildfire through the school, and when some of them had asked questions, the two refused to answer, lost in a haze of numbness and shock. Other students, however, chose to leave them alone at this time, which was what they had wanted.

Today, though ... today had been torture. Today had been Harry's funeral. It had taken place on Hogwarts grounds, and it seemed as though the whole world showed up to bid Harry goodbye. Hermione had held on tightly to Ron's hand during the ceremony, tears streaming down her face while the latter sat, white and shaking, in his seat, looking like he was going to be sick. Dumbledore's speech had been heartbreaking, and Merlin, Harry looked so tiny and frail lying in that coffin. They could hardly believe that this had been their best friend, the boy who rolled his eyes when Hermione nagged about homework, the boy who had had unbridled joy on his face as he flew on the Quidditch pitch, the boy who always chatted animatedly with Ron about that same subject.

The burial had taken place in the beautiful little village of Godric's Hollow, where Harry had once lived with his parents. And that was where he was now resting; he was in a grave right by their side. Watching his coffin get lowered into the ground, watching people throw dirt over it, had been too much for his two best friends. Hermione gripped a shaking Ron tightly to her as they both sobbed for their fallen hero.

At that moment, Professor Dumbledore pulled the two back to the present as he got up to speak. His eyes held a tiredness in them that was unparalleled, the lines in his face more prominent than ever. He looked very, very old, as though he now had the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

"May I have your attention, please," he said, his voice carrying through the room. When all was silent, he continued, "There is not much that I need to say to you all, because everything has been said already. All I will offer is that summer is a good time to reflect on the year that has just gone by, of the experiences and knowledge we have all gained. And you know what I would like you to remember above all." Picking up his glass, he raised it and continued, "I would like you to stand, please, and raise your glasses to a boy who touched many, many lives. Please raise your glasses to Harry Potter."

The lump in Hermione's throat, which never seemed to go away lately, reappeared as she got up and raised her glass. Ron did too, and she noticed his hands were trembling. "Harry Potter," they all said together.

Then, the feast arrived. But to almost all those in attendance, especially the Gryffindors, it didn't taste at all like usual. Ron and Hermione only picked at their food, constantly staring at each other with tortured eyes. They wanted to hear Harry's voice again so desperately, wanted to see his smile, hear his laugh, even hear his shout. They knew it was going to be a long, hard struggle to get through the summer. Both wished they didn't have to leave Hogwarts tomorrow; it made it worse that they had to part from each other. They believed that getting through their grief would be easier if they could stay together.

As soon as they were able to, they escaped from the Great Hall and wandered out to the lake, where Harry's funeral had been held that morning. They walked around, lost in their own thoughts, not saying a single word to each other. But this was alright – nothing needed to be spoken.

Finally, they collapsed on the grass beside the lake, looking at the moonlit, star-strewn sky. It was a beautiful night, but things still felt so unreal to both Ron and Hermione. They bowed their heads, doing exactly what Dumbledore had said hours before: reflecting. Even though they had only known Harry since September, it felt like he'd been with them for a lifetime. They couldn't get used to the thought of having to live without him.

Eventually, Ron broke the silence. "I still ... I still can't believe it," he said softly. "I still can't believe he's just ... just not here anymore. I still expect him to say something about Quidditch, or turn around and shout words to Malfoy that'll wipe the smirk off his face." He let out a sad chuckle. "I know it won't happen," he continued somberly. "I saw him lying inside that coffin. I saw him being buried. I know he's not coming back. But it's still so unreal."

"I know, Ron. I know." Hermione sighed, her eyes soft as she gazed at the only friend she had left, but the friend she was now going to hold onto with all her might. "I'm just trying to comfort myself with the fact that he could be in a better place."

"Do you ... do you believe that there's a life after this one?" Ron asked softly. "I know my family does, but I've never quite known what to think. But now that this has happened ..."

"I'd really like to think so," Hermione answered quietly. "I'd like to think he's with his parents now. I ... I never really thought about what it was like for him, having no real family."

"I know. Me neither." Ron nodded, feelings of shame washing over him as he thought back to all those times, all those times he had complained about his parents and siblings. He'd moaned and groaned about the fact that his mother always made him roast beef sandwiches when he hated roast beef, always made him wear maroon sweaters when he hated maroon. He realized now that he had taken his family for granted. Desperately, He wanted to think that Harry was truly happy now, finally reunited with the parents that had loved him so much and were probably so, so proud of him.

"His legend will live on for years and years," Hermione said after a few minutes of silence. "The whole wizarding world knows his name. They won't stop talking about him for ages."

"No." Ron agreed, nodding again. "No, they won't."

"We won't ever forget, will we?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking as she looked into Ron's eyes. She hoped that somehow, he would see the true meaning behind her words.

He gazed back, and their eyes locked. Within seconds, understanding dawned. "No," he replied firmly. "Never."

Hermione took his hand, knowing in that moment that it was a promise, a promise to remember Harry as so much more than a legend with a scar. He had been their best friend. Their friendship had started out in such an unusual way, but their bond had been extremely strong nevertheless. To them, he was so much more than simply The Boy-Who-Lived. And he would never, ever be forgotten.

And so it was, that as they gazed one more time at the night sky with the knowledge of their promise deeply etched within their hearts, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger embraced.


End file.
